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its-all-or-nothing94 · 4 months ago

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One Night // Tom Glynn-Carney x f!Reader

Summary: Where reader goes out with her friends and meets this charming, sweet (and so fucking) hot guy in a club.

A/N: This is the first fic I have published based on a real person. I don't know Tom, this is just puuuure fiction, thank you very much! It's actually just a short little One-Shot :)

Ship: Tom Glynn-Carney x Reader

Warnings: Language (is it tho?), mentions of having sex, use of alcohol, One Night Stand

You have always thought of yourself as a pretty ordinary person. You had a decent job, a decent apartment, and a group of friends that you could count on for a good time. So when your best friend, Emily, suggested you go out to a trendy new club in London, you thought, why not?

The club was packed, the music loud enough to make you feel it in your chest. You weren't usually one for these kinds of places, preferring a quiet pub or a cozy night in with a book. But tonight, something felt different. You wanted to let loose, to forget about the mundane for just one night.

After a few drinks and a lot of dancing, you found yourself at the bar, slightly tipsy and in need of a break. That’s when you noticed him. A man standing beside you, ordering a drink with an easy confidence. He had a rugged charm about him, with tousled blonde hair and an intense gaze that seemed to see right through you.

“Having a good time?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

“Yeah, better than I expected,” you replied with a smile. ��I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Tom,” he said, extending a hand. You shook it, feeling a strange spark at the touch.

You chatted for a while and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. He was funny, down-to-earth, and didn’t seem to have any of the pretentiousness you often encountered in these places. He didn’t mention his job, and you didn’t ask. You talked about music, movies, and travel – all the things that made life interesting.

Your laughter mingled with the thumping bass of the music, your body moving freely to the rhythm. Tom's eyes, a striking shade of blue, sparkled under the dim club lights as he leaned in closer. Your conversation flowed effortlessly, a seamless exchange of stories and laughter that felt strangely intimate for two people who had just met.

Before you knew it, the night had flown by, and the club was starting to thin out. Tom glanced around, then leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want to go somewhere quieter? Maybe talk without shouting over the music?"

You hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded. There was something about Tom that made you want to throw caution to the wind, to embrace this rare sense of spontaneity. "Sure, why not?"

You walked through the bustling streets of London, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the heat of the club. Tom hailed a cab, and you slid into the back seat, a comfortable silence settling between you. The ride was short, and soon, you stood in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. Tom unlocked the door and gestured for you to enter.

You stepped inside, taking in the stylish decor. The apartment was a perfect blend of modern chic and cozy comfort, with clean lines, soft lighting, and personal touches that hinted at Tom’s personality. He led you to the living room, where a leather sofa dominated the space, flanked by bookshelves filled with an eclectic mix of literature and knick-knacks.

"Make yourself comfortable," Tom said, heading to the open-plan kitchen. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Surprise me," you replied, sinking into the plush cushions of the sofa. You watched as Tom expertly mixed two drinks, his movements confident and precise. He handed you a glass, your fingers brushing briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"To unexpected nights," Tom toasted, raising his glass.

"To unexpected nights," you echoed, clinking her glass against his while you were blushing slightly.

You sipped your drinks, the alcohol warming you from the inside out. The conversation picked up where it had left off, but now there was an added layer of intimacy. You sat close, your knees touching, voices low and hushed. Tom's gaze never left your face, his eyes tracing your features as if trying to memorize them.

The air between you grew charged, the unspoken tension crackling like static. You felt your pulse quicken, your breath coming in shallow bursts. Tom set his glass down and leaned in, his hand gently cupping your cheek. He paused for a heartbeat, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, making your heartbeat quicken.

You melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in the moment. The kiss deepened, your bodies pressed together, a hunger igniting between you.

Tom's hands roamed over your back, tracing the curve of your spine while your fingers tangled in his hair. You broke apart briefly, gasping for air, your foreheads resting together. "Are you sure about this?" Tom whispered, his voice husky with desire.

"More than sure," you replied breathlessly, your heart pounding in her chest.

What followed was a whirlwind of passion and desire. Clothes were shed hastily, discarded in a trail leading to the bedroom. You moved together with an urgency that bordered on desperation, your bodies finding a rhythm that felt both new and familiar. Tom's touch was gentle yet firm, his kisses searing a path across your skin. You felt more alive than you had in a long time, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

You finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, your bodies entwined, the city outside just a distant hum. The night had been a blur, but one thing was clear: it was a night neither of you would soon forget.

You woke up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. You carefully slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Tom. You dressed quietly, glancing back at him, a sense of something deeper stirring within you. You shook it off, knowing this was a one-night stand, nothing more.

You scribbled a quick note thanking him for a wonderful night and left it next to Tom before slipping out the door. The cool morning air hit your face as you stepped outside, swirling within you a mix of exhilaration, confusion, and a hint of sadness.

Back in the apartment, Tom woke up to find the note. He cursed softly under his breath, realizing he had forgotten to ask for your number. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the note in his hand, feeling a strange emptiness. For once, he had met someone who treated him like a normal person who didn’t care about his fame or his job. And now you were gone.

You walked through the quiet streets of London, replaying the events of the night in your mind. You knew it was just a fleeting moment, a brief escape from reality, but it was a night you would never forget, a night that made you feel truly alive.

As you reached your apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have been. But you pushed the thought away, determined to hold onto the memory of a perfect night with no regrets. Life would go on, but you would always have that one night in London, with a man named Tom.

Later that morning, Tom found himself at their usual rehearsal spot, a grungy but cozy studio tucked away in East London. The rest of the Sleep Walking Animals were already there, casually tuning their instruments and chatting amongst themselves.

“Morning, mate,” Joe greeted Tom, plucking at his guitar strings.

“Morning,” Tom replied, his voice absent-minded.

Alex, noticing Tom’s distraction, smirked. “Someone’s got their head in the clouds. Or should I say, still in bed with that hot Y/H/C from last night?”

Tom shot him a look. “Shut it, Alex.”

“Oh, come on, Tommy boy,” Bill chimed in, drumming a rhythm on the edge of a table. “You looked proper smitten when you left the club. She must’ve been something special.”

“She was,” Tom admitted, slumping down onto a battered old couch. “But she buggered off before I could even ask for her number.”

“Savage,” Jack said, shaking his head. “Didn’t even leave a name or nothing?”

“She did,” Tom replied, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N. That’s all I got.”

“Y/N,” Nuwan mused, his fingers dancing over the keys absentmindedly. “Could be anyone, mate.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Tom muttered, frustration evident in his tone. “It’s just... I dunno, she was different. Didn’t give a fuck about who I am or what I do. Just treated me like a normal person.”

“Well, you are a normal person, mostly,” Joe teased. “Except when you’re whining about a girl like a lovesick puppy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tom said, but there was a hint of a smile.

“Can’t believe she just legged it,” Bill said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “What, were you that bad in bed?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Tom threw a cushion at Bill. “Piss off, Caple. It was great, thank you very much.”

Alex leaned over, grinning. “So, did you shag or not?”

Tom rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, we did. And it was... it was amazing.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad, mate,” Jack said, strumming a chord on his bass. “Bet you wish you could find her again.”

“Yeah,” Tom admitted, his voice softer now. “I really do.”

The guys exchanged looks, the teasing dropping away for a moment.

“Look, mate,” Joe said, more seriously. “We’ve got a gig tonight. Maybe you’ll meet someone else who’s just as cool. Don’t get too hung up on one girl.”

Tom nodded, knowing Joe was right but still feeling the pang of regret. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Nuwan started playing a familiar tune on the keys, and the rest of the band gradually joined in. The music filled the room, and for a while, Tom let it carry him away, the notes and rhythms a welcome distraction from thoughts of you.

But even as they played, your face lingered in his mind, a reminder of a night that felt all too fleeting and a connection that was painfully out of reach.

You sat with your friends at your favorite coffee shop, a cozy little place with mismatched furniture and a laid-back vibe. Emily, Sarah, and Jess were all there, sipping on their drinks and catching up on the latest gossip. You knew it was only a matter of time before the conversation turned to you.

“So, Y/N,” Jess started with a sly grin, “anything interesting happen last night? You disappeared from the club pretty quick.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Sarah echoed, her eyebrows raised. “Come on, spill it! Who was the guy?”

“His name’s Tom,” you said, trying to sound casual. “We met at the bar, hit it off, and... well, I went back to his place.”

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Emily exclaimed, nearly spilling her latte. “You had a one-night stand? With a guy you just met?”

“Yeah, I did,” you admitted, unable to hide your smile. “And it was amazing.”

“Details, please,” Jess demanded, leaning in. “How was he? What was his place like?”

“He was... incredible,” you said, feeling the warmth of the memory. “Funny, down-to-earth, and not full of himself. His place was pretty stylish too, very him.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Sarah sighed. “And you didn't get his number?”

You shrugged. “No, I left early, and he was still asleep. I didn’t want to wake him. Besides, it was just a one-night thing.”

“Still,” Emily said, shaking her head, “you should’ve left your number or something. What if he wants to see you again?”

“I doubt it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “He probably doesn’t even remember my name.”

“You never know,” Jess said with a wink. “Maybe he’s thinking about you right now, regretting not getting your number.”

“Yeah, right,” you said, but a small part of you couldn’t help but hope Jess was right.

“Anyway,” Emily said, changing the subject, “my brother’s got tickets to this gig tonight. Some indie band. He asked me to come, and I thought it could be fun. You guys in?”

“Who’s the band?” Sarah asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Sleep Walking Animals,” Emily replied. “Ever heard of them?”

“Sounds vaguely familiar,” Jess said, shrugging. “Why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Same here,” Sarah agreed. “Could be fun.”

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asked. “Got any plans tonight?”

You shook her head. “Nope, nothing. I’m in.”

“Great!” Emily said, clapping her hands. “It’s a plan then. We’ll meet up at my place and head over together.”

As you finished your coffees and chatted about other things, you felt a strange sense of anticipation building inside you. You weren't sure why, but the thought of going to this gig excited you. Maybe it was just the idea of a night out with your friends, or maybe, somewhere deep down, you hoped for something more.

#Tom Glynn-Carney #House of the Dragon #Tom Glynn-Carney x Reader #Tom Glynn-Carney One Shot #One Night Stand #Celebrity x normalo #One Shot #TGC x Reader #Tom Glynn-Carney Fanfic

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 4 months ago

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The Things I Do For Love (Prince Aegon x Nanny!Reader)

Summary:

After you're fired from your job in KL as the nanny of Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor, due to their father's inappropriate attraction to you, Aegon follows you to Oldtown to your new position as Otto's caregiver.

Pairing:

Prince Aegon II Targaryen x Nanny!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Song: One Thing by One Direction

Warnings:

AFAB reader, mention of alcoholism, delirium tremens, and rehab, Otto being Otto, fluff and bickering, swearing

Author’s Note:

This is an HotD modern day AU retelling of P.G. Wodehouse's short story, The Best Sauce. You can read it here.

You can also read this oneshot on ao3.

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

The hour of the wolf, aka three o'clock in the morning, was about to end. You were still awake, kept awake by the hunger in your stomach and the anger in your heart. You blamed two people for this. Your boss, Ser Otto Hightower, and his grandson, Prince Aegon Targaryen.

The hunger was Otto's fault. A few months ago, his personal doctor recommended a strict Mediterranean diet, which meant no white rice, bread, or pasta, no red meat, and no potatoes. Potatoes, your favorite food in the world. And because you were his live-in caregiver, you had to practice the diet too. It had been two months since you last ate potatoes. Cheese fries and tater tots and roasted garlic wedges and fondant potatoes and pomme dauphine. Your mouth watered as you remembered the last time you ate potatoes, simmered in creamy, cheesy au gratin.

But you had to obey the diet, even though you weren't the one with cardiovascular diseases swimming through your system. No, that would be Otto Hightower. But you lived in his house, ate his food, and got paychecks from his accounts. So, you had to suffer too. No matter how surly and annoying Otto as a person was, constantly nitpicking about everything you do and scolding you for it. You always wondered. How in the seven hells did his wife, Alyrie Florent, may she rest in peace, manage to have a happy marriage with a Spartan like him? An exact replica of his personality would be his second grandson, your previous employer, Prince Aemond, while a complete opposite would be his oldest grandson, Prince Aegon.

Thinking about the oldest prince made you cranky and you were generally a friendly person. It was him more than Otto that you couldn't deal with. Otto was a necessary thorn on your side. He pricked you daily but in return, you got to eat three full meals a day, spend the snowy nights inside a warm home, and save a hefty chunk of money in your bank account, money you didn't have to spend on rent, bills, or groceries.

Aegon's pricking, on the other hand, wasn't something that benefited you. Several times a day, sometimes several times an hour, you had to remind yourself you hated, hated, hated his guts. His philandering ways, his loud voice, his potty mouth, his unhealthy diet, his lack of personal hygiene (look at that greasy hair!), and his lack of respect for your personal space. Quite a few times last night he breathed down your neck, almost skin to skin, offering to get you a drink, whispering the spoilers of any movie Prince Daeron chose, or butting into any conversation you had with anyone. You couldn't exactly tell him to fuck off, since he was the oldest grandson of your employer and so, by proxy, he was your boss too. You forced yourself to return his big, goofy grins, which were genuine and constant, unlike yours. At one point, you sorely missed his surly little brother.

Before Otto hired you, you used to work as the full-time nanny of Princes Jaehaerys and Maelor, and Princess Jaehaera. A month before you were hired, Princess Helaena was offered tenure at the University of Riverlands, and Prince Aegon had checked himself into a rehab in the Reach. Dowager Queen Alicent had remarried her sworn guard, Ser Criston Cole, and moved with him to Dorne. So, it fell on Prince Aemond to become the guardian of his niece and nephews, who had to stay back at King's Landing to not disrupt their education by starting all over elsewhere. Prince Aemond, no matter how attentive and affectionate he was toward the kids, couldn't raise them alone. So, he had his own assistant hire you, the best candidate. You had a four-year Bachelor's degree in children's education, a one-year diploma in nutrition and dietetics, and more than a decade long experience as both part-time and full-time nanny. On your first day, Jaehaerys developed a crush on you (which went away much sooner, to your relief), Jaehaera declared you her best friend, and Maelor agreed to eat his beans and peas if you fed them to him. For almost a year, you were tasked with taking care of the royal children, until six months ago, when Prince Aegon completed his rehab and came back home.

Your first impression of him was irritation, simply because how his face told you all he felt at the moment. This became apparent from his crush at first sight of you. By the end of the day, everyone in the Red Keep was aware of his smitten kitten status. The only exception was his five-year-old son and you wouldn't be surprised if Maelor also caught his daddy making heart eyes at you. The boy probably saw it and didn't care.

Prince Aemond was the first to notice it, even before you did. For a week, he coldly, silently let his brother make a fool of himself to woo you, before he put his foot down. He sent his big brother to Dorne, to visit their mother and new stepfather. Aegon only agreed to leave if he could come back within a week. Aemond promised. The moment Aegon's private jet left the airport, Aemond fired you. He referred you to his grandsire, Otto Hightower, who had settled permanently in Oldtown to spend his retirement. Maelor and Jaehaerys sobbed as you packed your bags. Jaehaera tried her best to persuade her favorite uncle (not so favorite anymore after your sacking). In one day, you were kicked out of both the Red Keep and King's Landing. The next day, you found yourself in Oldtown, at Otto Hightower's doorstep. Prince Daeron, who lived with him, warmly welcomed you in, a stark contrast to his icy grandsire. The youngest prince had been Otto's caregiver, until his college application was approved and he had to focus on his classes. Otto only relented after he reviewed your certificates and made an hour-long call to his favorite grandson. Everything was going as well as it could, until two days ago, when Prince Aegon visited out of nowhere.

You were in the kitchen, making spanakopita egg muffins and sweet potato hash for breakfast, when the doorbell rang. Prince Daeron was brushing his teeth. Ser Otto was in the morning room with his newspaper and orange juice. You answered the door and had to blink several times, both to get over your shock and because your corneas were singed from Prince Aegon's sunny smile. Any more happier to see you and he'd have to wear a tartan kilt to hide his wood.

You weren't the only one surprised. Otto wasn't expecting him and Daeron didn't think Aegon meant what he said, that he missed his little brother and grandsire so much, he might hop on his jet that very night to join you for breakfast. As soon as he was done hugging his little brother, Aegon turned to you. He had the look of a child starved all year from toffees and sweets, and now had been released inside a candy store unsupervised. His purple gaze told you, as loudly as if he had shouted it from a microphone held before a megaphone, that he knew where you went and where you worked, and he had tracked you down to Oldtown with one goal in mind: to make you his girl.

To say you were angry would be understating it. He had cost you your last job. Here he was in Oldtown, back in your life, hot on your heels, ready to sweep you off your feet, your class status and your preferences be damned. Now, in your room, you stewed in anger on your bed. Only when your stomach cried out did you realize how much thinking about Aegon made you forget about your physical troubles. Now, that was troublesome. You were really hungry and yet, thoughts of him made you forget that as well.

The clock out in the hallway struck four. The hour of the wolf was over. Just as the clock chimed, you remembered the red velvet brownies in the fridge.

A minute later found you out in the hallway, on your toes as you crept toward the kitchen. Otto was vehemently against meals after midnight. Even more than his distaste towards your spaghetti strap shirt and short shorts as your sleeping clothes. Once at the kitchen door, you paused when you heard the clear scraping of a chair across the floor. Shit, was it a burglar? Oldtown had a much lower crime rate than King's Landing but it wasn't nonexistent. Besides, the Hightower family was the second richest family in Westeros, right after the Lannisters and barely scraping over the Velaryons. If a burglar had a target, it'd have to be the Hightower who lived secluded and away from the city. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You whipped around your head until your eyes landed on a baseball bat that Daeron forgot to put away two nights ago, a bat he used to hammer down a loosened nail from a sideboard, due to the lack of a proper hammer in the house.

Anyway, you picked it up and, with one arm raised, opened the door. A man sat on one of the four chairs around the round dining table. You smelled spices and cheese and… Fried potatoes!

You hesitated for a second before you rested the tip of the bat on top of the man's head and found the switches. But you didn't turn it on. Instead, you decided to make a threat.

“Hands up! Drop whatever weapons you have or I swear to the gods, I'll bash your brains out of you.”

The man raised his hands, before he relaxed at the sound of your voice. You turned on the lights and noticed the silver hair.

“Seven hells, chilli pie, if you're gonna wreck me, I'd rather you do it in my bedroom.” Hands still raised, he turned around on his chair. His movement revealed to you what was on the table. A large box of five rolls.

Aegon noticed your ogling and chuckled. “Scalloped potato rolls. Want some?”

You came back to your senses and scowled. “Seven hells, your grace, what are you doing here at this hour? I could've seriously damaged your brain.”

“But you didn't!” He wrinkled his nose similar to a kissy face and grinned. You groaned inwardly and glanced at the table. He saw you. “You want some?”

“You ordered takeout?”

“Not really. One of my chefs is experimenting with some new dishes we're thinking of adding to our menu, so he sent me a few samples…”

You remembered he ran a fast-food chain called The Targ Burg all over Westeros and Europe. He even opened two or three branches in NYC and LA. Everyone loved how tasty (fatty) and delicious (spicy) the food was. Although he made burgers mostly at first, since the boom of profit, he moved onto desserts and other savory dishes. Your personal favorites were chilli tornado potatoes and cheesy waffle fries. Back in college, you and your study buddies used to hang out at the Targ Burg all the time. Once or twice, you had seen the founder prince making surprise visits, and hanging out with his groupie chefs and staff. You even harbored a little crush on him, until you learned about his alcoholism. Though that was in the past now, you just couldn't get past that part of him.

Aegon lifted one of the boxes and offered it to you. “Try it. It's got all the good stuff. Ground meat, all the hot spices and sauces, bacon, and five different cheeses, all melted. The taste will hit you like a solar plexus punch. Come on now. I know you haven't had potatoes in months.”

You scowled. “Who told you that?”

He grinned impishly. “I also know it's your favorite food in the world. Come now, indulge a little.”

“No thanks.”

“You sure? All those munching on grass and legumes can get a little bland.” He took a big bite of his roll. The other open end almost oozed out the fillings. He chewed loudly and grinned at you with his mouth full. He offered again and you shook your head.

“What brought you here? Did I make a noise?” he asked the last part sheepishly.

You cast one quick glance at the fridge across the room. “Yeah…” you lied, almost mournfully. You couldn't backtrack now. Sorry, red velvet brownies. “I'm going back to bed.”

“Wait, hold on. I need to talk to you. Come sit next to me. Let me warm you up. You must be freezing, your nipples are all poky.”

You squeaked and crossed your arms, covering your chest. He gave you a cheeky grin and pulled out a chair for you with his foot wrapped around one of the legs. He could've been a ballerina with how flexible his limbs were. You declined his offer.

“Suit yourself. Now, tell me, why the fuck did you leave my kids? Why the fuck did you leave me?” He pouted like his sons. “I came home all excited from Dorne. I even got presents for you. Then, I came back and my brother told me you left…”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?” You glared.

“Me?” He pointed at himself. “What did I do?”

“Ask everyone what you didn't do around me. They all saw the hearts in your eyes every time you so much as looked at me.”

He giggled like a shy schoolgirl caught by her teacher while she was dropping off a V-day card on his desk. “Oops, busted! Well, now that you know I want you, the problem is solved. You hand in your resignation first thing in the morning. Once my grandsire accepts it, which he will, given how much he complains about you, we can set up a date. Where do you wanna go? A nice picnic in the Keep's courtyard, away from the public eye? Under the weirwood tree? Or a candlelight dinner on top of the roof? I personally would love to go on a picnic, but you pick, chilli pie.”

You snorted at how ridiculous he sounded. “Goodnight, your grace.” You put away the bat on a counter and headed for the door.

“That went well. I wonder what Jaehaera was so worried about.” He picked up his half-eaten roll. He sounded so hopeful, you knew he didn't catch your sarcasm. You had to correct him.

“Your grace, did you honestly think I agreed to go on a date with you? Did you really think I'd do that?”

“Duh!” He left his food and turned to you. “Why would you not wanna date me? I'm such a catch! I'm a prince, for fuck's sake! I'm successful! I'm clean too.” The last bit he added seriously and you knew he was. “And you're so cute, our kids will come out beautiful either way. Come on, you'll be happy as a princess, my princess. Chilies pair really well with potatoes, you know. I wonder what pulls sunshine like me toward grumps like you…”

“Sunshine?” you scoffed. “More like the single lightbulb in an interrogation cell, burning my corneas into crisps.”

He preened like a peacock. “Well, I am pretty hot…”

“I hate pretty people. They're vain, selfish, arrogant…”

He pouted, his purple eyes glistening like a kicked puppy's. “You don't mean that! It's not my fault I'm so beautiful.” He sighed at your glare. “It's the blood of the dragon in my family's veins. I swear to gods, if I could, I'd try to dim down my beauty. But I'm just so pretty, I can't help it.”

You grunted and twisted the knob. “Goodnight, your grace.”

“Nighty night, pretty sight. Tomorrow morning, we can go for a walk down the beach…”

“In your dreams!”

He smirked. “We do much more in my dreams than just walking, love.” At the disgust on your face, he sobered up. “But I'll tone it down to a walk for now. Can't scare away my skittish kitten…”

And so the next day, after breakfast, you had to take the prince to the beach. He had never visited Oldtown so extensively before. So, Otto gave you half the day off and you had to act as Aegon's tour guide.

“Lighten up. You'll love this.”

“Only if you're the last man on this planet.”

He grinned. “In that case, I'll happily become a serial killer of the members of my sex.”

“Fuck you,” you mumbled. He heard you, of course, he heard you. Before he could make a crude joke, you walked away and he had to jog a little to catch up to you, what with his legs as short as a corgi.

The entire time, until your return trip home, Aegon babbled on and on about his restaurant and his rehab stay. All you contributed to the conversation were monosyllabic replies. You softened up a little when he touched on his struggle with alcoholism, especially the delirium tremens during his rehab days.

Just as you both got inside a taxi on your ride back home, you finally spoke up. “Your grace, I told your grandsire something about you.”

“I didn't break the crystal swan in the living room, it was Daeron.”

“You broke the crystal swan… Oh never mind, I bought it for Otto from a flea market and he never liked it. Anyway, it's about your dietary habit. I told him you've become a vegan ever since you came back from the rehab.”

“Noooooooo! Why would you… Oh, you sneaky little Tweety.”

You finally gave him a genuine smile, a smug smile of victory. “I can call your pilot and tell him to pick you up.”

“When I leave Oldtown, it'll be with you in my arms, as my girl and my girl only.”

“In King's Landing, you can eat your scalloped potato rolls all day every day. All you have to do is leave.”

“Not without you. Never without you,” he spoke through gritted teeth. Yes, this was getting on his nerves. Good. “Besides, I can handle a week of no meat…”

“No meat, no seafood, no dairy, no eggs, not even honey.”

Aegon drew in a sharp breath—the breath of a man who was bracing himself up for the walk of penance. His silence lasted a long time. His eyes out the window, he muttered under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What was your pilot's name again? Arryk or Erryk Cargyll? I keep mixing them up.”

“What makes you think I'll tell you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Your grace, do you remember one time, during lunch, your older son refused to touch parsnips and you agreed with him, saying you'd rather take prussic acid and strychnine than let your tongue touch parsnip?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You didn't…”

“Otto told me to buy a bunch of parsnips on my way home. You'd love them. They make great substitutes for potatoes in fries and mash.”

He looked at you, for the first time in his life, very seriously and sadly. “The things I do for love…”

“You've gotta be kidding me! Just leave already!”

He grabbed your hand and turned you to face him. “I told you before but you didn't listen. Now, I'm telling you again. I. Am. Not. Leaving. Without. You. I've seen the way my grandsire treats you, chilli pie. You're always on edge every minute you spend around him or do something for him. For fuck's sake, you weigh salt on a measuring scale. Fucking salt! You scour all the supermarkets in the city to find him his grass-fed butter, readymade root veg medley, and sixteen-grain bread. Either I leave with you, or my family physically separates me from you, me kicking and screaming.”

You gulped and pulled away. “I'm making parsnip pasta tonight.”

He grimaced. “I'll live. A necessary poison I drink for love, like Socrates drank hemlock for humanity.”

You made no comment, astonished that he would know about Socrates. Especially since you and your buddies had a heated discussion about Socrates in one of Aegon’s restaurants once.

***

Though you promised yourself you wouldn't feel sorry for him, the next two weeks proved otherwise. Like the hardened beans, peas, and nuts softened up from an overnight soaking, so too did you begin to feel bad for the oldest prince. He had never shown such dedication to win. The only exception was his battle against alcoholism, something he did only out of his pure love for his children, who he wanted to give a better childhood than the one he got. What if what he felt for you was as strong and deep as his affection for his kids? Nah, it couldn't be. He couldn't remain loyal to his wife, always whoring himself in public. Even after the divorce, his relationships with other women remained as flighty flings.

What would set you apart?

***

The days of delirium tremens were the worst days of Aegon's life. Nothing could ever come close to the shaking, shivering, sweating, and worst of all, the hallucinations. Several times, phantoms of his children accused him of being Viserys 2.0, absent and abusive. So, yeah, those days were nightmarish.

But if Aegon had to endure two more weeks of the vegan diet, he would die. Not outwardly but inside, he would. How did some people intentionally choose to eat plant based stuff all the time? How did they get pleasure from it too? From tofu, seitan, and tempeh? From mushrooms, chickpeas, and nuts? He couldn't think about the greens. He couldn't be in the same room as any root veg, one of his biggest nemeses being the sweet, peppery parsnips. He thanked his lucky stars that Otto also couldn't stand the pungent smell of radishes and the earthy taste of beetroot, or else Aegon would've folded long ago. For now, he ground as much pepper on top of his parsnip dishes as possible, to coax some flavor to the food. His dedication even baffled him. He'd always preferred his no-strings-attached lifestyle. He tried but couldn't love Helaena, his own fucking sister. He tried to love women not related to him by blood. He toured the world and almost everywhere, he hooked up. But nobody hit him like you did. The moment he met you, he was hooked. How could he not? You weren't as hot as the Hollywood celebrities, but there was a quiet charm to your appearance. Sweet and cute. Once he saw how much his kids loved you, almost as if you were their birth mother, he couldn't hide it anymore. He ignored the warnings Aemond issued. Many nights, once you and the kids had gone to bed, Aemond would argue with his big brother. Despite losing every single battle, Aegon would wake up the next day, ready to try to woo you again. It took Aemond's sneaky little ploy to separate you from Aegon. But Aegon was adamant if nothing else. He wouldn't let go of the girl of his dreams, no matter who his adversary was. He'd fight even you, your aggression and hostility at him. It took him bribing Aemond's secretary to learn where you went. He confirmed it after connecting with his little brother. Bless Daeron for not suspecting anything and giving him the information he desperately needed. Once Aegon had his confirmation, he wasted not a minute, flying to Oldtown an hour after his chat with Daeron ended.

Now, he hoped that you would yield soon. He hoped he would win this war, like he won against alcohol not long ago.

***

In the middle of the fourth week since his vegan diet began, Aegon found himself alone in the apartment with you. Otto and Daeron had gone for the former's monthly checkup. Although you were Otto's caregiver, Daeron was the one who was more aware of his health conditions than anyone else.

Aegon was mindlessly scrolling through his phone when you came in with a laundry basket. Held against your hips, the thing was too heavy for you. As he feared, you stumbled on one end of the carpet folded and raised, and almost landed on your hands and knees, had Aegon not caught you. As soon as he made skin to skin contact, he realized why you looked so out of it.

“Chilli pie, you're burning up!” He stepped over the pile of dirty clothes and picked you up. He placed you on the couch.

You were so out of it, you didn't react to him carrying you the bridal style. Rather, you tentatively rested your head on his shoulder and sniffled. “I don't wanna infect you, your grace.”

“I'll be fine.” He placed a tender kiss on your sweaty forehead. You felt disgusted with yourself for the first time, and embarrassed to be in the presence of such a hot royalty in your filthy, frumpy state. You wished you didn't stink or sweat, that your limbs didn't feel as floppy as if the bones had melted away, and your vision wasn't as blurry as the rain against a windowpane.

By the time Otto and Daeron had returned, the dirty clothes on the living room floor were gone. Instead, the last load of them were gently swirling inside the washer, in soapy water, the whites separated from the colored fabrics. You sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen, cooking from your position. Aegon was setting the table. Daeron smiled at how domestic and cozy the scene felt, as if coming home from school and finding your parents making dinner.

Otto was grumpy about the many, many blood tests done on him. The ECG that required stripping off his shirt made him more irritated. Silently fuming, he washed his hands and sat down to eat.

The first course was root veg medley soup. Otto didn't require you to find fresh vegetables and prepare them for the soup, no. He rather had you buy the pre-cut and seasoned veggies from an organic shop across the city. Although the mix had radishes and beetroots, your job was to pluck them out and cook the rest. You'd usually feed the birds the leftovers. But today, you were so out of it, you forgot to pick them out. While Otto waited for his soup, the first course, you sat before the pot, dreading what your boss would say once he found the pungent radishes and the earthy beetroots in his bowl. Knowing Otto, he would definitely find them.

Aegon came to your side. He caught sight of the tears down your cheeks. Something told him they weren't caused by your sniffles.

“What's wrong, love?” he whispered.

You told him what happened, your volume low enough to not reach Otto's ears. Once Aegon got the hang of it, he glanced warily at the pot of stew. The tomato paste you had added had painted everything into a bright, cheerful red. You couldn't pluck out the radishes and the beetroots even if you tried.

“You can just sneeze into it,” he suggested.

Your eyes shed more tears. Your lips trembled. “He'll fire me. I was an orphan. I can't go back to being destitute again.”

Aegon tried to produce a sneeze, but the pepper pot was right next to Otto. He couldn't swipe it off without his grandsire suspecting something. He glanced at the pot of tomato-y soup one final time.

“The things I do for love…” he muttered under his breath, certain that you didn't hear him. But you did. Just as you realized what he was about to do, he picked up the pot and began to drink straight from it. The hot metal pot scalded his lips. His hands, covered with mittens, were thankfully spared. But his throat, tongue, and gums were burned beyond sensation.

You gasped out loud. Otto turned around and saw what his grandson was doing.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING?!” He stood from his seat.

Daeron came in, hearing the hullabaloo. By then, Aegon had finished the soup. He dropped the hot pot and it clanged to the floor. The loud ring echoed, until you picked it up. The ensuing silence was louder than Otto's thundering question.

“It's the delirium tremens,” you stammered, since Aegon had likely lost his voice.

“WHAT?!” Otto's scowl deepened.

You gulped. “He told me about it once. Because he has given up on imbibing, he feels an emptiness inside from time to time. Sometimes it emerges as acute hunger. He can't help it then. He's gotta give in to his munchies. Like it happens when you smoke certain pots. Like a zombie. Mindlessly hungry.” You helplessly glanced at Daeron, who got your signal at once.

“Y-yeah, I read about it once in a medical journal. Terrible, awful stuff. Poor Lēkia.” He went to Aegon's side and poured him a glass of water. Aegon gulped it down greedily.

Otto gave the three of you a stare down. “If I find out either of you were lying,” he pointed at you, “you'll be fired,” he pointed at Aegon, “you'll be disinherited,” lastly he turned to Daeron, “and you…” He hesitated, then waved off. Maybe Aemond wasn't his favorite grandson after all. Daeron sheepishly grinned, his fingers crossed behind his back. Otto went back to his chair and Daeron ushered his big brother to a seat. You put away the empty soup pot and brought out the main course, eggplant parmesan lasagna. As you cut up a big portion from it, you glanced at the oldest prince.

His face was flushed and wet, from tears, sweat, and snot. Your hands itched to wipe and wash his cheeks. For now, Daeron did those. He offered his Lēkia some fruit pops. Aegon tentatively licked them. For every wince, the walls around your heart melted. He did this for you! To save your job. He probably knew he had cost you the last one. He cared about you so much, he put up with a strictly vegan diet for almost a month. For a meat lover like him, this was torture. On top of that, you made him eat parsnips twice a day, if not more. But this, what he did just now, was the ultimate proof of his care. You had learned, from his twins months ago, after that lunch of parsnips, that their dad hated almost all root vegetables. Most of all, he loathed radishes and beetroots, more than parsnips, more than his grandsire did, for either their “fart-like smell” or “dirt-like taste”. He hated them as much as he loved his kids. And boy, did he love his kids.

Once Otto and Daeron's meal was over, they left you two in the kitchen. Otto wanted a nap. Daeron had a class at four. You offered Aegon another fruit pop. He tried to grin but couldn't. Stretching his scalded lips hurt. He sniffled when you gently applied an icepack on his lips.

“You know, you could've just spit into the soup, or tipped off the pot. Otto would never eat anything off the floor.”

He texted you his answer.

“Didn't think so much.”

“Of course you didn't.” You chuckled and put the dirty dishes in the washer. You made him a large glass café liégeois and a plate of banana split to soothe his scalded throat. He whimpered when you tried to feed him some chicken broth. So, you resorted to cold and sweet food for now.

“Your grace?”

He looked up.

“How does an ice cream parlor sound?”

He frowned, confused.

“For a first date.”

He grinned and immediately winced. You pressed another icepack against his lips.

You could always kiss him on your third date.